Page 43 of Forever Her Bachelor
When he was a boy, St. Clara had thought his father addressing him with his lesser title was a sign of pride and respect. Now, as a man, he knew it was impersonal and cold. He vowed never to treat a child of his own with such harshness.
The silence between them was heavy with uncertainty. He tried to find his voice to say something, anything, but suddenly he was desperate to hear his name on those sweet, kissable lips.
A serving girl came bearing two hearty bowls of soup, and another girl set down a basket overflowing with freshly baked bread in the center of their table. He knew it was rude not to acknowledge them, but he couldn’t remove his gaze from the woman sitting across from him.
Pippa’s emotions betrayed her. Her forehead crinkled in dismay, pressing her lips together, making them appear slightly puckered. It was clear to him that she hadn’t meant to nearly say his given name. Pippa wanted to keep their relationship cold and distant, but things had been changing between them.
St. Clara had forgotten that Pippa had become acquainted with his mother and sister through her aunt. Lady Wayford and his mother were acquainted after living next door to each other for many years. She had come to Town in preparation for Amelia’s wedding to Lord Evers. The man was twice his sister’s age, but his father had arranged the match without Amelia or his mother knowing.
Once, he saw his sister and Pippa entering her home together. It had been a difficult time for St. Clara, watching the two parts of his life come together and completely ignore him.
St. Clara observed Pippa closely as she took a tentative taste of her soup. His eyes shifted around the inn before landing back on her. He wanted to continue their conversation, but his soon-to-be wife avoided eye contact. Perhaps a crowded inn inBirmingham was not the best place to discuss their past. It was indeed a sensitive subject for them both.
There were so many questions he needed answered. His mind reeled over the past. Nothing could have happened when he was on the Continent. How could he do something if he wasn’t even in the country?
His younger self had taken his vow to marry Pippa seriously. She was his closest friend, but more importantly, she was to be his wife. He had never betrayed her trust, not even when he and Bollingbrook were gallivanting across Europe. His friend often teased St. Clara, calling him an altar boy or suggesting that St. Clara was already married. He had not cared in the least at what his friend thought then. He knew that Pippa was going to be his wife, and nothing was going to deter his promise to her.
Or so he’d thought.
His father had thwarted their relationship with his demand of St. Clara going away to the Continent, but could there be something more? Something St. Clara did not know about? He wanted to press her, to demand she tell him so that they could leave the past behind them and start anew.
Fresh.
He wanted to discover their new connection, to bask in their intimacy. If they had married young, perhaps they would’ve ended up craving each other in such a way.
“Your Grace! Wiggins said it was you, but I didn’t believe him.” An older man came striding to their table excitedly. St. Clara stood to greet the stranger, not wanting to have the man stand over him. “Ernest Perkins, Your Grace. I’m one of your tenants at Archer Castle. Fine lands you have. We didn’t have word that you had married! It’ll be a blessing to have you and the duchess back in residence.” Mr. Perkins was a friendly sort that seemed to have a permanent smile on his withered face. His thingray hair reached past his collar as old blue eyes pierced through St. Clara.
St. Clara cleared his throat as uneasiness crept up his spine. He hadn’t been to Archer since he was a boy. “No, I’m afraid we will not be stopping at Archer Castle. Perhaps another time.” Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he tried to hide his despair.
Sweat formed at the base of his neck, his fingers itching to loosen the tight, damp cravat. It had been twenty years since he and his father had departed, shortly after his mother and sister left. St. Clara had ensured the upkeep of the land and its tenants, making sure the castle was staffed with enough servants to tend to its upkeep, but he’d never returned. The funds from the estate were not lucrative enough to fill his empty coffers. Now, he knew that his father’s payment to Wayford was a substantial reason for their lack of funds.
Whenever he thought of visiting his ancestral seat, his heart would freeze in his chest, and he would break into a cold sweat, all from the thought of returning to the last place he saw his mother alive.
Perkins hid his disappointment well, but St. Clara saw the dip in his shoulders. “What a shame. I know the residents of Archer Castle would be happy to meet their new duchess in person.” Perkins bowed his head to Pippa who gave him a breathtaking smile.
“That would be lovely, Mr. Perkins. We will make it our mission to return one day.” Pippa’s voice was light and airy. St. Clara turned to her, trying not to let his own hope for the future take him over.
He wanted her comment to be true. The more time he spent in her presence, the more he found he did not want to part with her when their year was over.
“We look forward to having you, Your Grace. I’ll be sure to let Mrs. Morris know I saw you both.” He nodded excitedly, happy at the news he’d just received.
“Mrs. Morris?” Pippa asked, her gaze shifting from Perkins to St. Clara in question.
St. Clara sat down before answering. “The head housekeeper.”
His tone was clipped as he remembered the motherly woman. She had written him recently to inform he that she had started training another head housekeeper since she was getting up in age and very much wanted to retire with her daughter and her children in Yorkshire.
He had wondered why he needed a staff at all, but a home the size of Archer needed upkeep even if he never returned.
“Yes, she and Mr. Strong have been making sure the castle is well in order since His Grace and his father left over twenty years ago?—”
A loud gasp left Pippa as her eyes snapped to St. Clara. “T-Twenty …” Her gaze found St. Clara, wide and filled in wonder. He knew that she had always wondered why he and his father stayed in London year-round. The truth was that the memories at Archer Castle were too painful for both his father and him to return.
Perkins looked between them before he nodded his head. “I hope to see you both in Staffordshire soon. You’re missed, Your Grace.” Perkins left them.
The weight of her unwavering gaze threatened to be his undoing.
“Stop staring,” he commanded her before he ate the last of the hearty soup in front of him.